


Don't Mess with Tradition

by BeckyHarvey29



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Christmas Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 09:38:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5492483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeckyHarvey29/pseuds/BeckyHarvey29
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey find themselves under some mistletoe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Mess with Tradition

Mickey didn’t know why Ian insisted on having these parties every fucking year.

This was the third one in a row, and every year—every single fucking year—they were always the same; a bunch of Ian’s family and coworkers crammed inside their small, shitty apartment, getting shit-faced drunk and being ultra fucking annoying into the wee hours of the morning, while too loud Christmas carols poured out of the speakers.

It always ended the same, too…with Mickey having to clean up after everyone the next morning, while a completely wasted and passed out Ian slept on the couch until three. 

And every year—despite swearing up and down the previous year that it wasn’t happening _ever fucking again_ —Mickey gave into Ian. He always gave into Ian. One look into those wide, green eyes, and Mickey found it hard to say no to the guy. It was really fucking annoying. 

The party was in full swing by eleven o’clock, and Mickey hadn’t moved from his spot in the corner for almost an hour. He was just casually watching the crowd of people stuffed inside their apartment like a bunch of sardines, and sipping his spiked eggnog. 

His eyes landed on Ian in the middle of all the chaos. Mickey snorted into his mug and shook his head. Ian was wearing a quintessential ugly Christmas sweater and fucking reindeer antlers on his head. His roommate was fucking ridiculous when it came to Christmas.

Mickey watched as the crowd parted a little, and then he saw that Ian was currently laughing and talking with one of the guys that worked with Ian at the club…a guy who had just recently expressed having an interest in Ian. Mickey watched as Ian laughed jovially at something the guy said, and then watched as the guy reached up to wipe a smudge of cookie frosting from the corner of Ian’s mouth.

Mickey scoffed and downed the rest of his strongly-spiked eggnog. He fucking _hated_ eggnog. And Christmas. Fuck it all.

“Hey, you okay?”

Mickey tore his eyes away from Ian and his work friend to glare at his sister. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Relax, asshole,” Mandy snipped back. “I was just wondering why you’ve been standing in the same spot all night by yourself. Not having fun?”

Mickey relaxed a little and glanced back in Ian’s direction to find the two men now leaning in towards each other; probably to hear each other better over the cheesy fucking music. “Yeah. I'm havin’ a fuckin’ blast.”

Mandy slowly stirred her drink as she watched him. “You’re starting to get obvious, you know.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey snipped before taking another gulp of his eggnog, secretly wishing that there was something stronger around. The only other drink being served was some fruity fucking concoction Mandy and Ian had experimented with earlier in the day, and Mickey wasn’t fucking drinking that.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Mm,” Mandy hummed as she gave him a pointed look. "Sure I don't." She fixed her crooked Santa hat, and then turned to rejoin the party.

Mickey watched after her disdainfully before averting his eyes back to his best friend. Ian was alone now, his work buddy nowhere to be seen.

Ian looked up in that moment and locked eyes with Mickey from across the crowded room. The corner of his lip quirked up into a smirk and he lifted his eggnog mug in a salute. He then jerked his head, motioning for Mickey to join him across the room.

Mickey responded by giving Ian the finger, even though he felt his own lip tugging upwards.

Ian rolled his eyes and then pushed his way through the crowded living room. “Hey, you’re not having fun,” he said once he reached Mickey.

“Of course I’m not fucking havin’ fun,” Mickey snipped. He took in the sight of Ian’s bright eyes and rosy cheeks. Ridiculous. “You know I don’t do good with other people.”

Ian smirked and tilted his head. “Come on, Mick, it’s one night. It’s Christmas and it’s fun! What’s wrong with fun, huh?”

“It’s not Christmas. Christmas is two days away.” 

“Don’t be such a fuckin’ Grinch,” Ian said, slapping Mickey on the chest with the back of his hand. He then leaned in to peer down into Mickey’s mug. 

Mickey swallowed thickly, Ian’s close proximity causing his heart to speed up a little. He slowly lifted his eyes to search Ian’s face as Ian inspected his empty mug; he watched as Ian’s eyelashes fluttered, he eyed the light spattering of freckles across Ian’s cheeks.

“You’re out of eggnog,” Ian declared before lifting his eyes. They were only a few inches apart, and Mickey really fucking wished he was more drunk. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout me,” Mickey said, trying to keep his voice steady. He relaxed a little when Ian took a step back. “Looks and smells like you’re drinking enough for the both of us.”

Ian laughed. “‘m not drunk.”

“Right, ‘course you ain’t,” Mickey said dryly. 

Ian laughed again, heartier this time. “I’m not! I’m having fun, and I wish you were, too.”

“Like I said, don’t worry about me,” Mickey said again. The next words he spoke were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Go find your boyfriend. Seemed like you were having a good time a few minutes ago.”

“What, you mean Kirk?” Ian asked, his voice raising with the question.

“Yeah. Kirk. The guy you said came onto you the other night at work,” Mickey answered, suddenly wishing he could take the words back. He then stared down into his empty mug, wondering if maybe he was tipsier than he had originally thought.

“I told you already, I don’t see him like that.”

“Sure the fuck looked like you did five minutes ago.” Mickey scoffed, and then lifted his eyes to find that the grin was no longer on Ian’s face. 

“Right,” Ian said flatly, "because I can’t possibly just be friends with another guy without wanting to fuck him, right?” 

Mickey took in Ian’s words and hurt expression, and wondered exactly where the conversation had gone so terribly fucking wrong. Before he could say anything to try to rectify the situation, Ian was walking away from him.

“Aye, Ian—”

Ian made his way through the throng of people to their small kitchen and refilled his cup with eggnog. 

Mickey stopped next to him. “You know I didn’t fuckin’ mean it like that.”

“Whatever, it’s cool,” Ian said flatly before taking a gulp of his drink. 

“Would you stop being so fuckin’ dramatic?” Mickey eyed Ian’s profile, knowing Ian was pissed judging by his jutted chin and stiff jaw. Mickey sighed and shuffled his weight back and forth a few times. Finally, he grabbed a plastic cup and filled it with some of the punch. 

Ian turned his head to look at him and quirked a questioning eyebrow. 

“You want me to loosen up, want me to have fun…well this is me loosening up and having fun,” Mickey snipped. He locked eyes with Ian as he brought the cup to his lips and downed the strong, tangy drink in three long gulps. By the time Mickey finished and burped crudely, Ian was grinning again. “Happy now, asshole?”

“Nope. I want you to wear the ears.”

“What?”

“Wear the ears!”

“I already told you ten times, I’m not fucking—” Mickey began, before scrubbing a hand down his face and sighing in defeat. “Fine. Give me the goddamn ears. The things I fuckin' do for your ass.” 

Ian laughed and practically pressed up against Mickey to grab something on top of the fridge behind him.

Seconds later, Mickey was wearing a green fucking elf hat, complete with pointed ears and a scowl.

“I fuckin’ hate you.” 

“No, you don’t,” Ian said, his eyes dancing as he sipped his drink.

Mickey stared back, his stomach feeling a little weird, and his heart feeling a little fluttery. He was blaming that completely on the alcohol, and not on the way Ian was looking at him.

“Holy shit.”

Mickey tore his eyes away from Ian’s to find his sister standing a few feet away, her mouth open and her eyes bright with amusement. “What?” he snipped. "The fuck are you looking at?"

“You guys have to kiss.”

Mickey’s heart thumped wildly in his chest, and his eyebrows shot up. “The fuck’re you talkin’ about?”

Mandy pointed up, her grin widening. “You have to kiss.” 

Mickey knew what Mandy was referring to before he even looked up. He suddenly remembered the mistletoe Ian had hung in the doorway of their kitchen earlier that day…the mistletoe that was currently hanging right above their heads.

“She’s right, you know,” Fiona said as she walked over. “It’s tradition.”

“Yeah, well, fuck tradition,” Mickey stammered. He then braved a look in Ian’s direction to find his best friend watching him. “What?”

“I mean, it _is_ tradition. It's fun," Ian pointed out. "What’s the big deal?”

“What’s the big deal?” Mickey huffed. “The big fuckin’ deal is I ain’t fuckin’ doing it.” 

“Come on, it’s just a little kiss! I’ve definitely seen you kiss worse,” Mandy goaded. 

“Fuck off,” Mickey said, once again thinking to himself that the party was a really terrible fucking idea. “You two are technically standing under it. You fuckin’ kiss if you're so worried about tradition.”

Mandy and Fiona glanced at each other, shrugged, and then stepped forward to kiss each other chastely and quickly on the lips.

“What the fuck!” Mickey exclaimed.

Fiona laughed. “It’s not a big deal. You guys have lived together for over three years, you’re both gay…you’ve never thought about kissing each other?” 

“Fuck no,” Mickey spat without a second thought. He then looked back at Ian and froze a little when he saw Ian staring down at the floor, his teeth gnawing on his lower lip. _The fuck…_

“It’s okay,” Ian said in the next instant, looking no worse for wear. He smiled and shrugged and lifted his cup to his lips. “It’s just a lame tradition anyway. Let’s just move on and have fun?”

Mandy and Fiona rolled their eyes and went back to the party, figuring there was nothing to see. 

“Aye,” Mickey said, grabbing Ian’s arm and tugging him back. “The fuck was that?”

“What was what?”

“That look.”

“What look?”

“Like you…like you wanted to fucking kiss me, or something.” 

Ian stared back at Mickey, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed visibly. “There was no look,” he assured. “I’ma go head back to the party. What kind of host would I be if I didn’t mingle, huh?” 

Mickey watched after Ian dumbfounded, not knowing how to process anything that had happened in the past ten minutes. 

He never should have left his fucking corner.

  


* * *

  


It was another hour into the party, and Mickey couldn’t find Ian anywhere. He then had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and an ache in his chest when he realized Ian’s friend Kirk was nowhere to be found either.

“Aye, Raggedy Anne, you see your brother anywhere?” 

Debbie looked away from the guy she was dancing with and shrugged. “Nope, haven’t seen him.”

“Yeah, thanks for nothing,” Mickey grumbled before moving on.

After asking Mandy, Lip, and a few of Ian's coworkers where Ian was to no avail, Mickey decided to check the bathroom. He found Iggy and some chick that Ian knew making out heavily on the toilet. He shut the door quickly to give them privacy, and silently thanked whatever higher power there was that he didn’t see any tits. His night was already fucked enough as it was. 

He checked his own bedroom to find it empty (thank fuck), and then stopped outside of Ian’s bedroom. He took a couple deep breaths and tried to prepare himself for what he might find; _who_ he might find. 

At first glance, he didn’t see anyone. Just as he was about to close the door and move on, he heard a grumble and finally noticed the lump in the middle of the bed amidst all their guests’ coats. 

Mickey stepped into the room and locked the door behind him, drowning out the sounds of jolly laughter and Jingle Bell Rock blaring from the living room.

“What’re you doing in here? Aren’t you supposed to be out there hosting the party you wanted so fucking bad?” 

“Needed to get away for a minute,” Ian answered glumly. "Needed to think, couldn't do it out there."

Mickey’s eyes started to adjust to the darkness of the room. The only light came from the blinking Christmas lights that outlined Ian’s bedroom window. Ian and his fucking Christmas decorations. 

“So you leave me out there to play host then, huh?” Mickey asked as he walked over to the bed. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and looked down, just barely making out Ian’s features. He fought the smile tugging at his lips at the sight. 

Ian was surrounded by a mound of coats and scarves, his reindeer antlers still on his head, albeit slightly askew. 

“Aye, you alright?” Mickey asked, his voice suddenly soft and serious. “Talk to me, man.” 

“‘m okay,” Ian answered back. He then sat up so that he and Mickey were facing each other. “Just needed to take a break.” 

“This about what I said to you earlier?” Mickey asked carefully. "About that Kirk guy?”

“No, it's not about him.”

Mickey reached up and rubbed at his lower lip with his thumb. He swallowed thickly before asking, “This about the mistletoe thing?” 

Ian sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t know. I just…I didn’t know it was such a disgusting thought to you…the thought of kissing me.” 

Mickey stared back at Ian, wanting so badly to tell Ian just how wrong he was; that kissing Ian was so fucking far from a disgusting thought. He knew he couldn’t do that though. He couldn’t jeopardize their friendship like that. Besides, he knew Ian was drunk and would most likely forget this whole thing by morning. 

“Nah, man. I just didn’t want to cause a scene out there. Plus, you know…you and me are friends. We can’t be…we can’t be doing stupid shit like that…especially over some stupid ass tradition that don’t mean shit.” 

“Haven’t you ever—” Ian began, but then stopped.

“Haven’t I ever what?” Mickey pressed. 

Ian was looking down, his fingers playing with the sleeve of one of the coats they were sitting on. “Haven’t you ever wondered, though? What it would be like? To kiss me?”

Mickey’s heart was pounding hard in his chest as he kept staring back at his best friend. And when Ian lifted his eyes to look into Mickey’s a few seconds later, Mickey’s heart raced a little harder.

He didn’t know if it was the alcohol that was causing his lips to be loose, but before he could stop himself, he said—barely above a whisper, “Of course I have. I mean, fucking…look at you.” 

Ian stared back at him, his own Adam’s apple bobbing up and down nervously. The air was thick around them, and the only sounds in the room were the muffled sounds of voices and music coming from the party going on without them. 

Mickey watched as Ian leaned over towards his bedside table. He felt frozen; afraid to move, blink, or speak. 

Ian sat back against the headboard, and then held something above his head. 

It took Mickey a handful of seconds to realize what was happening. “You kidding me right now?”

“No,” Ian said as he continued to hold the small sprig of mistletoe over his head. “There’s no one here. It’s just you and me, Mick,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “It’s tradition. Shouldn’t mess with tradition.” 

Mickey didn’t think much about his next move. He scooted closer to Ian until they were sitting close, their knees touching. “Tradition, huh?” he rasped as he lifted his hand and curled it around the back of Ian’s neck.

“Tradition,” Ian mumbled just before their lips met in a soft, wet, pliant kiss. 

Mickey kissed Ian slowly and tentatively. Ian tasted like eggnog, and Mickey decided he _really_ fucking loved the taste of eggnog. 

Ian lowered his arm and tossed the mistletoe aside before gripping the back of Mickey’s head to hold him closer. 

Mickey moaned when Ian opened his mouth to him, and Mickey greedily accepted Ian’s tongue in his mouth. He ran his hand down the slope of Ian’s neck, and then clutched the front of Ian’s ugly Christmas sweater to pull him closer. 

The kiss turned heated, hungry, as they devoured each other’s mouths. Mickey pulled back a minute later to pant for air and tapped his forehead against Ian’s. “Fuck.” 

“Mick,” Ian whispered back. “I want you.” 

“No,” Mickey murmured, trying to get his heart and breathing under control. “Not like this, you’re fuckin’ drunk.” 

“I’m not drunk.” 

“Yes, you fucking are.” 

“I’m not,” Ian assured. “I know what I want, Mickey. And even if I _was_ drunk, I know I’d still want you. I always fuckin’ want you.” 

Mickey pulled back enough to look into Ian’s eyes, to see that his roommate was being completely serious. “The fuck do you mean you always want me?”

“You heard me,” Ian said breathlessly. “I always want you. This, us…I’ve wanted it for so fuckin’ long, so don’t sit here and tell me I’m too fuckin’ drunk, or try to take it all bac—”

Before Ian could finish his rant, Mickey pulled Ian back in for another kiss, and then he relaxed back among the coats, pulling Ian on top of him.

“Shit, Mickey,” Ian stammered as he situated himself above Mickey. He held himself up on stiff arms as he stared down at him. “Wait. What does this mean?” 

“It means I…it means I fuckin’ want you, too,” Mickey said. 

Ian took in Mickey’s words, and then a slow smile spread across his face. 

“You look fuckin’ ridiculous, you know that?”

“You like me.” 

“Fuck you,” Mickey snipped, trying to salvage whatever little shred of dignity he had left. “That sweater is the ugliest piece of shit I’ve ever fuckin’ seen in my life.”

“If you wanted me to take my shirt off so bad, all you had to do was ask,” Ian said before grabbing his sweater and pulling it up over his head and tossing it to the side. He stared down at Mickey with a smirk as Mickey eyed his naked chest and abs.

“Fuck,” Mickey murmured as he lightly feathered his fingers over Ian’s body. 

Ian sat back and straddled Mickey. He clutched the bottom of Mickey’s shirt and slowly began dragging it up Mickey’s body. After Mickey sat up to allow Ian to remove the garment, he said, “You think our guests would be upset if we did dirty things to each other on top of their coats?”

Mickey watched with hooded eyes as Ian leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his sternum. “Nah, man,” he answered, his words slightly unsteady as Ian kissed his way down Mickey’s stomach. “What they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em.” 

“Hm,” Ian hummed as he slowly undid Mickey’s belt. He then looked up and locked eyes with Mickey as he hooked his fingers under Mickey’s jeans and boxers and tugged them down over Mickey's hips.

Mickey lifted his butt and kicked out of his jeans, leaving himself completely naked beneath Ian. He licked his lips and bit back a moan as Ian got comfortable between his legs. Fuck, this was really happening. This wasn’t just one of his dreams. This was really fucking happening. 

“You sure you want me to do this?” Ian asked, his breath ghosting over the head of Mickey’s cock. 

“Fuck…yes. Yeah, I’m sure,” Mickey stammered.

“Not too drunk, are you?” Ian teased with a quirked eyebrow. 

“Ian,” Mickey warned.

Ian kept his eyes locked with Mickey’s as he wrapped his hand around the base of Mickey’s cock and began slowly stroking him. “You sure this isn’t going to…make things weird?”

“Fuck,” Mickey groaned as he watched Ian’s hand working on his cock. He then lifted his eyes to Ian’s, and suddenly he was brought back to reality. “Aye,” he said, reaching for Ian. “Stop. C’mere.” 

Ian slowed his stroking and frowned. “What?”

“C’mere.” 

Ian crawled up the length of Mickey’s body and laid down next to him.

Mickey turned over on his side and propped his head up on an elbow.

Ian did the same and waited, a nervous look on his face. 

“I don’t—” Mickey began, and then stopped when he realized that he didn’t know how to express exactly what he was feeling. “I don’t…fuck. I don’t want it to be just this.” 

“What do you mean?”

“This. You and me. I don’t want to just…get a hummer in the middle of a party and have that be it. Have it be weird,” Mickey continued. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Ian’s, silently thankful that the room was mostly dark so that Ian couldn’t see any of the emotions he was trying so hard to hold back.

“What are you saying here, Mick?” 

“I…fuck. I care about you, alright. I want…I don’t want you blowing me, and then we go on and act like nothing happened. I don’t want you talking and flirting with some douchebag in front of me. I just…I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying. I sound like a fuckin’ idiot right now.”

“Hey,” Ian said, hooking a finger under Mickey’s chin to force Mickey to look up at him. “You don’t sound like an idiot.” 

Mickey sighed and scrubbed a shaky hand over his face. 

There was a soft knock on the door, followed by a muffled, “I need my coat.”

“Fuck off, we’re busy!” Mickey yelled back. He then opened his eyes to find Ian grinning at him. “What?” 

Ian reached out and cupped a hand over Mickey’s cheek. He smoothed his thumb over Mickey’s cheekbone, and leaned in to peck Mickey sweetly on the lips. 

Mickey relaxed back against the coats and allowed Ian to situate himself on top of him as the kiss deepened. 

“I have such a grumpy boyfriend,” Ian mumbled against Mickey’s lips. 

Mickey slowly smoothed his hands over Ian’s back, and then grabbed Ian’s ass, pulling Ian down against him. 

Ian’s breath hitched as they slowly began rolling their hips, the only thing separating their bodies was Ian’s jeans. 

“Never said anything about wanting to be your boyfriend,” Mickey rasped unconvincingly.

“Hey, you better be nice to me, or Santa won’t stuff your stocking,” Ian teased, his warm, sweet breath ghosting across Mickey’s face as he continued to rut against Mickey.

“Fuck you,” Mickey murmured back as he wrapped his legs around Ian’s hips to get even closer. “Stuff this, bitch.”

Ian pulled back and his eyes went wide. His face then broke into a grin. “Wait…can I?”

The double entendre of Mickey’s words hit him and he scrambled to recover. “What? No, fuck. I…I didn’t fuckin’ mean it like that.” 

He stared up at Ian; at those fucking stupid ass antlers still on his head, at his rosy cheeks and bright eyes, and the way the blinking Christmas lights from outside played across his sweet face. 

Something swelled inside Mickey’s chest, and then he mumbled, “Who the fuck am I kidding?” before leaning back up to kiss Ian again. 

“Not me,” Ian mumbled back. He then laughed when Mickey broke the kiss, a slight scowl on his face. Ian’s grin softened a little and he leaned down to rub his nose softly against Mickey's.

"So fuckin' lame," Mickey said affectionately as he dug his fingers in Ian's hair.

“This is going to be the best Christmas ever,” Ian declared breathlessly. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Mickey muttered before kissing Ian again.

He didn't want to give Ian the satisfaction of knowing that he agreed.


End file.
